Title: The Possession Dilemma
Paring: Warren/Layla
Rating: T for cussing.


He isn't sure when he started loving her, but he's willing to continue doing so.

He doesn't know exactly how he knows he loves her either. It wasn't as if one day she laughed at his joke and he realized he loved that smile. It wasn't as if he suddenly got jealous of Will Stronghold because, hell, he had a beautiful girl who loved him, and then grudgingly admitted he might love her. It wasn't a slow realization either, because he didn't do slow.

(He is fire; burning, crippling fire that consumes every-fucking-thing and lights it all up in flames because like it or not he's destruction.)

It wasn't even a realization. It's sort of how you love a mother. You know you've loved her (at least, he does) since forever, but you're not quite sure when you realized it. It's just… natural. You don't sit and think about why you care when she's down, or why you do almost everything she tells you to (because, unlike popular belief, Warren is mamma's boy). You do it because you care, period.

So when Warren Peace put on his father's tux, he wasn't surprised or bewildered when he though "She's lucky I love her."

He simply smirked, and headed of to Homecoming.


He's lost in the mass of people, and he curses below his breath, wondering where she is. It doesn't take him long enough to find her though, because she is easy to spot.

(Or maybe it's just him who can. He doesn't really fucking care.)

What matters is that she's there, talking to Mr. Boy about boys being jerks. He can't stop himself from smirking a little.

"Thanks." And she whips her head so fast he is sure there are gonna be marks on his face from the few strands of hair that strike him.

Her smile makes up for it, though.

(It didn't hurt much anyway.)

Her eyes are gliding over his body, and he feels strangely embarrassed, like a pet caught doing something inappropriate. But her eyes are strangely glossy when she says "I thought you said you wouldn't rent a tux."

He smirks lightly, and leans in to get a small whiff of her perfume free scent, because she isn't about to use something tested on animals.

"It's my dad's," he pauses slightly, searching her eyes.

(He doesn't want to scare her.)

"He doesn't have much use for it in jail."

(…and yet he goes and says something fucking stupid like that. Stupid, stupid, stupid-)


She doesn't look at him in the eye, and there's an awkward silence in which they are both left staring everywhere but at each other. But then she whips her head and he nearly avoids the whiplash, because as much as he likesloves her hairher, he prefers not having slash marks on his face.

"Want some cheese?"

He stares at her for a while, trying to make sense of what she told him. But she's offering him some cheese so he simply accepts it and smiles, glad to have a small break through the awkward moment.

She seems to like his smile, because hers widens, and her shiny grin almost takes his breath away, but it can't, because he needs to stay alive to be around her.

(And yes, ok, he knows how fucking love-sick he sounds. Don't blame him; blame the girl who stole his heart and drenched it in fairy powder.)


Dancing with her is surprisingly easy, minus the small missteps he has. Then again, he can't say he's the best dancer.

But he's surprised there isn't any shortness of breath, any fainting or dizziness. Everything simply seems clearer when he's near her.

It was almost as if he's programmed to be able to stay focused; because he knows this will be the last time he'll be able to watch her so closely.

(The thought sends a small stab to his heart, and reminds him that they aren't meant to be, and that she isn't his. And because it is her he thinks about, the thought and the feelings are fucking resounding throughout his whole fucking body, like a fucking electric current. She's.not.fucking.his.)

But at this moment, she's in his arms. She's smiling at him, and dancing with him, and saying his name.

So Warren allows himself a small moment of selfishness, and dreams she is his.

And he smiles at her, and she grins at him, and he loves her like no other man ever will.





(Later that night, Warren will tug her towards the closet, close the door behind them and fucking drink the life out of her with his lips. She will be confused, and whimper, and he will groan and show her how to speak without speech. She will fucking moan, God, and he will pour out his shitting soul to her.

Warren will make sure he fucking ruins her for other men. Because she might not be his, damn it, but that doesn't mean she will be anybody else's.

Fuck no.)


Review. Please. I know there aren't as many Warren/Layla fanfics out there but I would really like to know what you think of it. Even if it is only something like "yey, that was so great!" or even "dude, that was lame." Anything goes.

(FYI.. i like the first one better :D. I'll give you cyber-cookies.)